About five years ago, I got my first gun. It was a Lorcin .25 that didn’t work. I quickly got rid of it.
My next gun, however, is still one of my absolute favorites. It’s a Walther P22 that happens to be an absolute pain in the ass in some ways, but a complete joy in others. The trigger is mushy at best, with a long, heavy double action pull. It spits hot brass absolutely every direction—if I want to take that gun to the range, I absolutely cannot wear a tee shirt, much less something lower cut, because I will wind up with a scalding hot shell in my bra. It doesn’t like anything but the Remington Golden Bullets (jams and stovepipes anything else), and has to have the feed ramp cleaned while you’re shooting after about 200 rounds or so, or it jams.
It’s an even bigger twat when it comes to cleaning. The takedown lever is easy to pull, and it’s easy to take apart. That’s not the irritating part. Nor is the tiny little crevices that are almost impossible to get clean. Putting the gun back together is the stone bitch. You almost have to have three hands to properly compress the spring without losing your grip and letting the damn thing send itself into orbit. And the guide rod they supply to put the spring over is honestly too short to help—the cleaning rod does a better job.
That said, it’s an absolute joy to shoot. It’s more accurate than I can shoot it, and I can shoot ten round groups I can cover with a quarter at conversational distances. I can and have put entire 550 round bricks through it in the course of three hours in an afternoon, almost without realizing that I’ve shot that much. The ergonomics are very nice, and the Walther magazine release (lever at the bottom of the trigger guard where it meets the grip, for those who don’t know) is the only one I can reach and work one-handed out of all of my guns, given that I have hands the size of your average eleven year old.
I have put something like 10-15,000 rounds through that gun. I haven’t shot it in longer than I’d like: it’s hard to find time and babysitting to go to the range with just one child that eats food. It’s nigh on impossible to go to the range when you have a baby that still only nurses.
She’s growing, though, and I’ll be able to go shooting again soon. Probably next spring. That will be the handgun going with me.